Hold Me Tight, For I Am Unlovely

Chapter 25 : A Lotus-Eater

Chapter 25 :

"When you turn your gaze at me, I can feel your decaying core sink its teeth to my neck— yet all I can say is "oh what a charmer."

I'd let you lay your charm thick enough to choke, and leave me good for rotten."

.
.
.

The beast let out a snort that sounded like a rusty hinge trying (and failing) to open for the first time in a century. Its beady eyes—marble-sized but with the intensity of a hangry toddler—were locked onto me.

It scraped its hooves against the dirt, sending little clouds of dust swirling around like some kind of menacing intro to “You’re About to Be Dinner!” And, in that moment, I could practically hear its thoughts: "Ah, finally! The main course has arrived!"

Let’s just say I was immediately and wholeheartedly regretting every single choice that had led me here. But hey, I had no intention of becoming this thing's entrée anytime soon. Or ever, really.

"Well, then." I scrambled up from the ground in a way that probably looked half like a desperate dance move and half like I was summoning a spirit of some sort. My heart was hammering against my chest so hard, it felt like it was trying to give me a personal Morse code message—probably something along the lines of GET UP NOW.

My mind was yelling, "UP, UP, UP!" but judging by the look on the beady eyes of the boar like monster I was pretty sure I'd gone full-on parrot mode and was screaming it out loud too.

Finally, with a mighty crack, the beast wrenched its horns free from the tree it had so gallantly rammed into. I barely had time to blink before it locked eyes on me again, and—oh, lucky me—started charging straight in my direction.

As for my brilliant survival plan? It consisted mainly of a single thought: Run like your life depends on it (because it most certainly does). With no other choice, I veered off the familiar path and darted straight into the dense canopy of trees around me, hoping to lose it in the tangle of branches and shadows.

Like it was just your typical Tuesday.

It was strange, really. Leticia’s body, despite belonging to a lady who’d been practically confined to a boudoir her entire life, seemed to possess a shocking amount of stamina. I mean, here I was, ducking under branches, twisting through vines, and zig-zagging through the gnarled maze of tree trunks like some kind of forest acrobat, yet I wasn’t nearly as winded as I’d expected.

In fact, I felt... strong. Stronger than I had any right to feel, especially given that, not so long ago, the most exercise Leticia likely got was lifting a teacup or occasionally adjusting the lace on her dress. And yet, here I was, heart thumping with adrenaline but muscles holding steady, legs propelling me forward as if they’d been training for this moment all along.

If I’d had a spare moment to ponder, I’d almost think her body had been secretly waiting for this breakneck sprint through the wilderness.

The boar behind me had apparently decided that any tree daring to stand in its path deserved to be bulldozed, and it was tackling each one with alarming dedication. I could almost hear the cracks and groans of the trees giving way, and as ridiculous as this strategy seemed, I had to admit... it was working.

Every crash felt like the beast’s way of saying, 'You can run, but trees won’t save you.'

A cold shiver ran down my spine as my mind scrambled through a mental playbook, searching for some kind of miraculous “survive wild boar attack” maneuver. Think, think! My instincts were practically baring their teeth, bristling with the desperate need to find a way out of this whole situation without becoming the main course.

I ducked around a thick tree trunk, hoping it would buy me a few precious seconds. But the boar’s snorts were getting closer, and I could almost feel the vibrations of its relentless stomping through the ground.

Here I am, sprinting for my life, heart on my hands when suddenly—like a comet streaking through the atmosphere—a figure came soaring over my head. I barely registered the rush of wind that kicked my hair back before the boar let out a furious, guttural shriek behind me.

In a split second, everything shifted from chaos to bewilderment.

I froze mid-stride, my feet skidding to a halt as I whipped my head around, heart pounding with a new kind of anticipation. There was no way I’d imagined it—the figure that had just vaulted over me had to be human. Unless there was another species out here that could execute mid-air acrobatics, I was pretty sure I wasn’t dealing with another monster.

When I turned around, heart still racing, and the sight that met me was… unexpected, to say the least. There, standing with effortless confidence, was a man with his back to me. Beneath his boots, the boar lay motionless, its body twitching in final spasms. The creature was dead, and yet… I didn’t feel the rush of relief I’d expected. Instead, a new kind of fear crept into my mind, one far sharper and more unsettling than the panic of being chased.

Suddenly that one question popped inside my head, "the bear or the man?".

The man casually flicked his sword, dislodging the blood from its blade with a practiced ease that sent a shiver down my spine. There was something about his presence, something dark and dangerous. I found myself rooted to the spot, unsure if I’d just traded one threat for an even greater one.

I gathered myself, my hands finding it's ways towards my dress that was already less than presentable, forcing down the lump in my throat as I tried to steady myself. “Who…” I managed to croak, voice barely above a whisper. “Who are you?”

The man slid his sword back into its sheath with a smooth, almost lazy motion, as if slaying beasts was as routine as breathing. Then, finally, he turned to face me. I almost took a step back—his gaze was piercing, and the handsome face that looked in my direction held an intensity I hadn’t been prepared for.

"Hmm?" The man’s response came out as a low, almost amused hum, his lips curling into a smirk that was as subtle as it was maddening. His gaze raked over me, lingering just a little too long, and I could practically feel the heat of it tracing down my spine.

If I were any less composed—any less of a woman with some dignity left intact—I probably would’ve stood there gawking, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, marveling at how impossibly handsome this man was. Heck, I might have even let out one of those embarrassing little giggles I swore I was too mature for. Instead, I clenched my jaw, hoping he didn’t notice the hint of color creeping up my cheeks and willing myself not to react under his infuriatingly smug gaze.

He tilted his head slightly, studying me with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, and I had the distinct impression he was enjoying this far more than he had any right to.